By Definition
by karnival
Summary: A non-alphabetical "dictionary" or collection of shorts and drabbles.
1. Lifeline

My first attempt at SP fic writing. Each short will feature a random pairing or set of characters. (Probably centering around the main four, mostly.) And I don't write slash, I write friendship. But you can look at it as slash if you want.

* * *

**life∙line **(līf'līn')  
_-noun  
_A diagonal line crossing the palm of the hand and believed to indicate the length and major events of one's life

**Characters/pairings:** Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman

**A/N:** I didn't know where to start, so I used watchout4snakes' random word generator and it gave me 'lifeline.' I tried to have fun with it. xD

* * *

"Guys, guys!" cried Stan, trudging excitedly through the snow-coated ground. He was the last to make it to the bus stop that morning.

"Dude, Stan, where're your gloves?" asked Kyle, noticing first his best friend's bare hands.

"I learned the coolest thing yesterday," said Stan, ignoring Kyle's question as he reached the other three. He presented them his hands, palms faced up. "See the lines on our palms? D'you know they can determine things about your life? It's called palm reading, I read about it on the internet. My palms say I'm gonna live a prosperous life!"

"Palm reading? Stan, that's bullcrap," snapped the biggest of the four. "I know better ways to see into the future."

"Oh yeah, like what, the mirror? You're doomed to be a fatass forever, Cartman!" said Kyle.

"Shut your little smart-ass Jew mouth, Kahl!"

Kyle only scowled at Cartman. Then he ungloved his own hands and walked over to Stan. "What do mine say?"

"Read mine after!" Kenny chimed in.

Taking Kyle's bare hands in his own, Stan studied them, his fingers tracing down the various streaks on his palm.

"Kyle, you're gonna have an average-length life, find true love in your late 20s, and earn lots of money like your dad."

"Sweet, dude!" the Jew said excitedly.

"The _hell_? You can't _possibly _learn that much by looking at a fucking hand," cursed Cartman as he marched over to the huddle he was left out of, _totally_ not interested at all.

"Yeah you can, dude. People get paid money just for reading other peoples' palms," replied Stan. "Okay Kenny, your turn."

The orange-clad boy stripped his hands free of his brown gloves, allowing Stan to work his magic.

"Kenny, where's your lifeline?" asked Stan, confused.

"My what?"

"Your lifeline. See Kyle's? It's this line here," he said, grabbing Kyle's hand and pointing to a line that stretched along from above his thumb down to his wrist.

"I don't have a lifeline?" Kenny was bemused.

"Kenny should _so _have a lifeline. He hasn't died in ages!" argued Kyle in disbelief.

"But he doesn't," shrugged Stan. "Anyways. _This _line says you're gonna be rich... Shit, Kenny, you're gonna be rich!"

"Wohoo!"

"_What?!_" yelled Cartman obnoxiously. "Okay, I won't have any of this anymore! See this, Kenneh? See this glove?" asked Cartman, picking up one of Kenny's stray gloves. "See this hole that I can just stick my finger through? It's screaming that you're damn poor!"

"Chill _out_, dude! You don't know how Kenny's future will turn out," said Stan bitterly.

"Yeah, ever heard of the idea of rags to riches?" Kyle added.

"I can prove to you Kenneh's gonna be a poor, desperate rat," claimed Cartman, his tone the smuggest it could be. Once he took hold of both of Kenny's gloves, he flaunted them in Kenny's face before he launched them into the street. They landed with a solid smack.

"My gloves!" cried Kenny.

The remaining three boys snickered in amusement as they watched their friend scurry over to the middle of the strip of black asphalt to retrieve his hole-y gloves. As he bent over to pick them up, the bus arrived, running him completely over.

"Oh my god, they killed Kenny!"

"You bastards."

* * *

**A/N:** Mmmm, pretty predictable ending, I know. Tied with Kyle, Kenny is my favorite character. I'm glad it's normal to kill him off otherwise, I would never! And you know? The lifeline on your palm doesn't indicate the length of someone's life at all! But people like to believe so anyway. I remember I did when I was a kid.


	2. Size

**size **('sīz)  
-_noun_  
physical extent or bulk

**characters/pairings: **Stan, Randy, a mention of Kyle

* * *

Stan Marsh came home from school one afternoon to find his dad lazing out on the living room couch, wearing nothing but his briefs. With one hand flat on his exposed belly and the other on the TV remote, Randy watched a man on television down a beetle, raw, like Simba in the Lion King.

"Oo-oo-ooo," cringed Randy, followed by a burp. Much to his verbal disgust, Randy's eyes told Stan otherwise for they were practically glued to the TV screen. With his father having been unemployed for a while, this was a normal spectacle for Stan.

"Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?" asked the raven haired youngster, much to his father's indifference.

"Not now, Stan. I'm watching Bizarre Foods."

"But I have a serious question to ask you," his son pressed on. Then reluctantly he added, "…about my penis."

That did the trick. Stan watched as Randy willed the TV to fade black by the press of a button.

"What about your penis? Have a seat," Randy motioned his son onto the couch. Stan, cautious, sat on the far opposite side of him to keep a comfortable distance.

"At school today I heard some guys talking about the size of their penises. Does size really matter, dad?"

The older man sighed. "Son, when you have a chicken nugget, does it matter what size it is when you eat it?"

Not getting his father's outlandish logic, Stan raised his brows. "Uh.. no? But what do chicken nuggets have to do with anything?"

"What I'm trying to say, Stan, is no. Size does not matter," Randy claimed nobly.

"Then why were there guys in the bathroom making it sound so important?"

"Okay, try putting it this way then," began Randy at his second attempt. "Try putting yourself in a woman's perspective."

Already, Stan didn't like where this was going. Like he knew _exactly _what to think by putting himself in the shoes of a _woman_. If he wanted to know about being womanly he would ask Mr. Garrison.

"See, Stan. Women are like men. But instead of comparing their penises, they compare the size of their breasts."

"…"

"Men and women are both fools. They initially _think _that size matters, but in the end when they find someone they love, it doesn't matter at all! Take your mother for example," Randy continued. "I was lucky she actually had pretty big honkers. But if they were smaller, I would still love her! So you see, Stan. Don't work yourself up over size."

Agitated, Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. What his father didn't get was that he hadn't asked for a _love-conquers-all_ response. Stan wanted to know why boys _his _age would care so much about size.

"Okay, dad. But I mean, like, did you ever compare your penis to someone else's?"

Sighing, the father admitted, "Yes, Stan. Back when I was a fool."

_But you still are one_, the child thought. "Why'd you do it?"

"Because I was curious. You and the boys at school are all gonna be asking yourselves questions until eventually your hormones will take over and you won't wanna be having this discussion with me again. It'll become personal once you're older and entering different phases."

"You did it because you were curious? Doesn't that mean you cared whether or not yours was bigger than someone else's?"

"The size of your penis isn't important, Stanley. Especially now at your age," the unclothed man repeated for the last time.

Still not accepting what he was getting out of his father's understanding, Stan argued, "But dad, size _is _important. If our family moved to a house the size of a box, wouldn't it be totally cramped? And if Cartman wore a shirt a size too small, wouldn't he look more like a fag?"

Having already reached his limit, Randy looked to his son, annoyed, retrieved the TV remote and turned it back on to the Travel Channel where Bizarre Foods was still airing.

"Go upstairs to your room, son. My show is on and they're featuring China right now."

"And if China was bigger, then maybe there wouldn't be any laws putting limits on how many children they can have! There are _so _many cases where size is important."

"Stan Marsh! Don't get smart with me and for God's sake please go to your room," Randy demanded.

"What if I told you I compared penises with Kyle!"

Eyebrows raised, Randy asked, "Was yours bigger?"

_Gotcha._ Just what Stan needed to hear in the end. That no matter what Randy told him, it _did _matter.

"So what now, dad? Size matters?"

Randy felt cheated. "Stan—"

"Forget it. Size does matter, so don't deny it. I'm going upstairs."

Leaving his father exactly the same way he left him, Stan marched his way to his room. He had only thought of it now, but perhaps he would've had better luck asking Kenny about this whole issue. And if Stan had known the answer all along, why did he even bother asking his idiot of a dad?

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, the importance of size. You could argue both sides for this.

And anyone ever watch Bizarre Foods on the Travel Channel? Interesting show. For some reason I just thought it was something I could see Randy getting real into. Lol, gotta love the guy.


	3. Beast

**beast** (bist)  
-_noun_  
1. the crude animal nature common to humans and the lower animals  
2. a cruel, coarse, filthy, or otherwise beastlike person

**characters/pairings: **Candy

**A/N: **Oh how I enjoy this pairing. It's also a little shorter than my usual ficlet. But heavier on the seriousness and profundity, if you can call it that, haha. I tried.

* * *

She was the beauty. He was the beast.

If hate took the form of a person, Cartman would be it. Everyone knew that.

Everyone also knew that Stan was lucky to have someone like Wendy. She was pretty, smart, an activist, and she knew when and how to speak her mind.

Despite the contrast, Wendy would watch the beast from afar. Each time she had the chance to observe him at the corner of her eye, he would either be picking on someone or be getting picked on himself. The harassment was so much a part of him that keeping a safe distance from his wrath was understandable.

So on a day like this one when she noticed Cartman at the corner of her eye, approaching her and her boyfriend, Stan, she disregarded the beast completely. She let the insults get thrown at him and his "big-boned" physique. She let Kyle punch him. She let Kenny abandon him for the other two. She let her girl friends laugh at him. And most vitally, to her at least, she let herself walk away.

But she just couldn't bear it whenever it was him getting picked on! Sure, he deserved it sometimes. But unlike most people, Wendy saw through Cartman's cruel demeanor. She understood why Cartman had to bully people around. Because Cartman was obviously different from everyone else, because he was an easy target, because Cartman probably _knew _his own flaws, he just had to rag on other people.. kind of as a way to protect himself.

It was as simple as that. Yet everyone saw him as a beast.

"Hey, Wendy," Cartman would come up to her randomly one day. "What'd you think of the lesson today? Pretty _lame_, huh?" he would ask.

At least he tried. But dammit, why did he have to try? Every time Cartman tried to get a hold of Wendy, she'd feel guilty.

Because she would be with Stan, or Bebe, or someone else that hated the beast. Which was practically everyone. Being in the midst of someone else that hated him would make her put on an aloof front and say something back to him like, "Yeah.. lame. See you later, Cartman!"

And the next time she'd see him it'd be the same.

And even if Stan or Bebe or someone else _wasn't _there, they would forever remain a strong presence in her conscience.

Ugh, if it weren't for other people! If only she hadn't cared.

Thinking if Stan or her friends ceased to exist, Wendy cringed at the thought of giving the beast another chance. Would she and Cartman have to be the only two people in the _world_ in order for her to sit comfortably with her feelings about him?

Shaking her head as if it would rid her of her innermost affections, Wendy began to hate herself. She realized that until she accepted the truth—and it would take a _hell _of a lot of willpower to do—she could only continue to walk away from Cartman. Just like she probably would the next day. And the next.

Because she was the beauty and Cartman was the beast.

Or was it the other way around?


End file.
